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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25413715">Final Skirmish 2003</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/henghost/pseuds/henghost'>henghost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My (non-fan)Fiction [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:15:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25413715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/henghost/pseuds/henghost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>We're here at the last Final Skirmish 2003 tournament of the year.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My (non-fan)Fiction [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Final Skirmish 2003</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>We're here at the last Final Skirmish 2003 tournament of the year. See the men genuflected before the hundreds and hundreds of screens, see the determination in their eyes. Only one will win. Hear the rickety noises of the joysticks, back and forth, back and forth. You can feel the beauty. The speed. The intensity here has an almost religious quality. It's as though when you enter the convention center you're entering a monastery. And everyone, from the most lowly novitiate to the highest priest, is playing by the same rules.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a palpable love, and almost as strong as the love is the hate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>#</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: HatchetMan, do you have any specific goals for this tournament?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>HM: Naw, just to win [laughs]. I mean, last year, you know, at the Mom's Basement Brawl Three I got second, which of course was way better than anyone was expecting me to do at the time. Actually I think it was the best placement a Curly main had ever got at a major tournament, at that point. Not to brag. So here at the fourth MMB I'm trying, you know, to take it all the way. But that's what everyone's going for, of course [laughs].</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: There's been a lot of talk recently about your ability to perform in the Bulby matchup? Especially with  ColonelCutter here in attendance?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>HM: Well, certainly that's a matchup I've struggled with in the past. There aren't a lot of Bulby mains in my region. But my coach and I have really prioritized training in that area, so I'm confident, you know, although of course CC's a really great player, a real student of the game, much like myself, so it certainly won't be a cakewalk [laughs].</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: And of course I can't leave without asking about the fact that you're no longer a free agent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>HM: That's right. Recently I've been picked up by Team EagleBlast. They've been really great, you know. Flew me out here and everything. And I'm really hopeful about what this means for my career. I've been thinking about going full time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>#</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Carbonara is at the setup for ten minutes before his opponent arrives. This is the Stage One match, so a crowd has gathered behind him, but he doesn't mind. His is the focus of the Devotee. Mr. Carbonara is a Dimply main from Dallas-Fort Worth, and those who follow the scene closely know he is on the Come Up. He's taken several high-profile names already. Last year at Heroes and Villains 2 he defeated YungSkeleton in a nail-biter Game Five set, who is (YungSkeleton is) currently ranked seventh in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>See him now, face mere inches from the screen, his hands like a spider across the worn controller. His movement in the game is like nothing you've ever seen. His character is almost a blur. The history of playstyles in the Final Skirmish 2003 community is an artistic history, and Mr. Carbonara is a member of the avant-garde, a method of play characterized by creativity, experimentation, and most of all speed. And Final Skirmish 2003 is all about speed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then his opponent arrives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He struts onto the stage dressed like a NASCAR driver, a jersey drowning in sponsorships and advertisements. Several members of the meager audience even boo at his appearance, which is perhaps excessive -- it's only the first round of Pools, after all. This is OnyxBlast. For the uninitiated: number one player in the world by a large margin, placed first or second at the last fifty major tournaments he's attended, Stumbly main, Nigerian immigrant, tall, handsome, a Villain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rock-paper-scissors for who gets to pick the first Map, fist bump, and then they sit down to play. OnyxBlast assumes the stance of a seasoned veteran -- he's been in the scene for around a decade now -- and the two begin the first game. Stumbly is a slow character, but she packs a punch. OnyxBlast is the only player at the very top level who uses her. No one comes close to his level of proficiency with her. He trips and dances around Mr. Carbonara's frankly amateurish attempts at grabbing him. The crowd is silent. They've seen this before. OB takes the first game without losing a Life. Mr. Carbonara grunts and wipes sweat from his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second game happens in almost the exact same manner, and the Best of Three is over just like that. Mr. Carbonara shakes his head as he gives OnyxBlast another fist bump and then dashes off the stage. He's in the Losers Bracket. OB is still a Winner, and he sips from a Monster Energy Drink (one of his sponsors) and exits the venue. Who knows where he goes?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>#</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: ColonelCutter, did you get to the venue okay?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>CC: Oh, well, I guess so. It's twelve hours from Reykjavik to LAX, so, you know, I'm a little jetlagged. But I'm used to it by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: It's always so amazing to me how good you managed to get without anyone around to play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>CC: Ah, you know. There's not much to do in Iceland. I had a lot of free time, especially in my teenage years. I spent a lot of time in the summer just hunched in front of my TV, you know, practicing my inputs. I learned the speeds of all his moves, before you could just look that stuff up. Spinning backward fly-kick? Twenty recovery frames. Upward-facing ground-sweep? Thirty-five recovery frames. That's how I got so good with an input-heavy character like Bulby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: Is that why you think the character has fallen out of favor in the current state of the game? Too many inputs?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>CC: Probably that's part of it, yes, I suppose. Bulby has a lot of difficult matchups. To any aspiring Bulby main out there, let me tell you this: it'll be hell at first, but if you put the effort, I mean really work hard at it, the character will reward you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: I couldn't help but see you got into a bit of a Twitter spat with OnyxBlast. Care to comment?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>CC: [Laughs]. Well, sometimes that guy gets on my nerves. Don't misunderstand, I have nothing against him as a Player, even if sometimes he isn't exactly very entertaining to watch if you see my meaning. But sometimes he gets on my nerves. It's like he's too confident sometimes, too cocky. Like, for an example, at one of the first tournaments I attended in the US, he was there as well, and we even played in Winners Quarterfinals, and he beat me of course -- I've gotten much better at the Stumbly matchup since then -- but he beat me, and I leaned over to tell him I was a big fan -- I was a little bit, you know, starstruck back then -- and he says, "Thank you, you too, good games," and then he stands up and jumps around a little bit and gives a little fist pump to the crowd. Can you believe that? And then he simply left. I thought it was unbelievable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: Okay, okay, last question -- Valentine's Day is coming up, do you have any plans?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>CC: Oh, [laughs], you know I actually just broke up with my long term girlfriend, so....</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: I'm so sorry to hear that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>#</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the sun is down it's the final match of the day, and it's a big one. It's a full house, rows and rows of metal chairs, sweating youths spilling out into the wings of the convention center. The lights are down, and so the only illumination comes from the screen on the stage, blown up five times by a projector. Blips and whirs of Final Skirmish 2003 characters zooming around the map at lightning pace are the only sounds. No one dares speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is ColonelCutter versus SipMaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SipMaster, dressed in a white undershirt and basketball shorts, steps onto the stage. The crowd goes nuts.  He gives them his signature toothy grin, pulls a bottle of Jack Daniels from his left pocket, brings it to his lips, and half of it is gone in a matter of seconds. He gargles the alcohol loud enough the whole venue can hear it. Gives the crowd one last look, shakes his jowls at them. Then he sits down to play. Fans in the audience swoon at his very sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching SipMaster play is the closest you can get in our modern era to a religious experience. The way he moves in the game seems somehow to break the intended limitations put in place by the original designers. He manipulates the pixels on the screen with the kind of zeal you associate with the great geniuses of history. Every Life taken is a masterwork, the sound of his character's shuffling feet a symphony.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, ColonelCutter is no pushover. They've started Game One now, and even a few seconds into Game One it seems as though SipMaster isn't moving with the kind of fiery passion we've come to expect. He isn't known for his consistency, after all. That's what makes the moments of greatness so transcendental. CC's already taken two of SM's three lives. But, oh? What's this? An incredible swinging whip-blast from SipMaster's Blistery -- who looks like a leper -- and just like that it's even again. And -- "Oh my lord!" says Kip on commentary -- SipMaster manages to execute a flawless BlisterBomb combo, and CC's Bulby explodes into dust. CC grunts like an animal. SM takes another swig from his Jack Daniels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These two's record, lifetime, is roughly even, so still anything is possible. They're into Game Two before the crowd has time to stop screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SipMaster is one of those guys who's been in the community for longer than a lot of his fans have been alive. At one point he was the best in the world. He's older now, of course, and there's been some discussion re the question of if his drinking has caught up with him somewhat. He's a father now. He's gained a not insignificant amount of weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, all this doesn't stop him from taking Game Two in an even more convincing fashion. He is in rare form. ColonelCutter looks homicidal at this point. But this is a Top Eight qualifier, and so it's Best of Five, and in a flash they're onto Game Three. SipMaster's a crowd pleaser, always has been, and so he throws away one of his Lives at the start of the game for free. CC shakes his head, bares his teeth like a threatened lion. But when SM is playing this well, he's nigh on untouchable, in the game and out. Every spectator is chanting as loud as they can: You Ess Ay, You Ess Ay! (We're here in SM's home town of SoCal). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough it's a Three-Oh, and CC's spiking his controller into the linoleum floor. The crowd explodes. Fluids are in the air -- sweat and beer. SM jumps into the pit of spectators and they hold him aloft as if he is divine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>#</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: SipMaster, congratulations on your win over ColonelCutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SM: Thank you, man. Really a lot of time went into that victory. A lot of practice. But, you know, I had to do it for my fans, you know. It's all about the SipMaster club -- I'm always doin' it for those guys. Plus you always have to do it for America. I wasn't playing so well earlier in the day, so I had to get a little turned up. I always play better when I'm just a bit buzzed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: Tomorrow you'll likely have a chance to play OnyxBlast and get even in you two's set count for the year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SM: Oh god, don't remind me. That dude sucks, man. I mean, he's a great player, yadda yadda. But seriously, he just takes all the fun out of playing Final Skirmish 2003. Like, what's this game all about, man? It's about going fast, beating the snot out of your enemies. My man O.B. doesn't do any of that. He only plays to win. What a loser, man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: You've struggled in the Stumbly matchup before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SM: Naw, man, I'm good at the Stumbly matchup. It's the OnyxBlast matchup I'm bad at. To beat him you just have to wait, basically, and I've never been good at waiting. I mean, you know me, I like to put it all out there, I like to put my balls on the table, so to speak. O.B. doesn't like that. He plays it safe. I'm like fire and he's like ice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: Any plans for the rest of the night? Or just a night of rest for Top Eight tomorrow?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SM: [Laughs] You know I can't just not get absolutely wasted tonight. My boys are here. All my boys are here. Let's get it going tonight, boys, SipMaster club! I'm thinking of getting another tattoo, what do you think? Right here? [Gestures at a spot on his forearm]. Maybe one of ColonelCutter smashing his controller into the ground [laughs].</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: Alright, any final words for your fans?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SM: Keep being awesome, SipMaster club! Oh and, Hannah, if you're watching: I love you. And to my beautiful son -- you are the light of my life. Never change. Peace!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>#</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's Sunday. It's the last chance. Outside, the sky is made of murky smoke and the air is awash with the fresh breeze of California in the spring. But no one is outside. Enter the convention center, come see: this is where champions are made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights in the venue are dimmed, and the crowd is filled to the brim, all eyes pointed stageward, where HatchetMan is warming up. He made it into the Losers Side of Top Eight by the skin of his teeth yesterday after an anxiety-inducing Game Five set with Mr. Carbonara, who went home at ninth. He is eager to prove, eager to curb the snide comments, the old-hands who tell him, "Wait a few more years."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's got a tough road ahead, of course. Onto the stage comes ColonelCutter, teeth gritted, eyes fiery and wild. They fist-bump, lock their gaze onto the flashing screen, and begin. What follows in the next few minutes -- games of Final Skirmish 2003 go by in the blink of an eye -- is some of the most beautiful play you could ever hope to see. HatchetMan's Curly whips around the Map, tumbling and flipping and dodging the flurry of kicks and jabs from ColonelCutter's Bulby. But, oh, when CC manages to land that hit, it is followed by a piece of freestyle jazz, an improvised sweep here, a swooning saxophone grab there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all it doesn't go on longer than a quarter of an hour. HatchetMan takes it Three-One, his first win over the steely Icelander, and he turns to the crowd and screams: "YES!" And the legion of sweating young men returns this sentiment. CC exits the venue with a look like he could strangle a bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other end of the Losers Bracket is now SlimeBall versus CorpseBloom, which is liable to be a long and patience-testing battle, so let's take a break and ask some of the community-members who have gathered here at what there feelings are about the tournament so far....</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kip Legume, commentator extraordinaire: "Wow, Mom's Basement Brawl is always such a fun event. So many people end up coming. And this year we had our highest turnout ever! The Final Skirmish 2003 community is so amazing. People have such a powerful passion for the game, and they really show it when they come to tournaments like this one. I'm hoping the rest of Top Eight will be as exciting as that last game. And SipMaster's been playing hot all weekend, so let's hope he manages to bring it home this year. You know, for the fans."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaun Gurgleheim, tournament organizer: "We've really had a lot of luck this year, organizing the event. So many great fans came to help set things up. It's incredible, almost two decades into Final Skirmish 2003's lifespan, that we still have such a dedicated group of supporters. Here's to many more! And, SipMaster, wherever you are, please don't go out like a choker this time!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, let's get back to the action -- the match everyone's been waiting for is about to start: SipMaster versus OnyxBlast in the Winners Semifinals. They shake hands -- nothing but respect between these two men despite their long rivalry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even at the outset of Game One, it becomes clear this isn't SM's time to shine. He runs into the arms of OB's Stumbly three times in a row. He's down a game after only thirty seconds. The crowd is dead silent. They've seen this before, too many times to count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a quick Three-Oh. Whatever. SipMaster is always better when he's coming from Losers anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the other Semifinal, veteran Whirly main OctoMike wins a fairly close match against up-and-coming Bulby aficionado BBallFan. Down in Losers, HatchetMan is looking unstoppable as he cruises through his match with GlumpShump, the Jimbly main from Maryland, who himself beat the British Tinkly main SpiderSwallow to make it that far. Then in Winners Finals OnyxBlast beats OctoMike -- in fact OctoMike has never even taken a Game from OB, despite the fact they've played upwards of fifty sets, lifetime -- without breaking a sweat, securing his spot in Grand Finals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it's HatchetMan versus SipMaster, and although he is, numbers-wise, the firm underdog, no one is cheering for ol' HM. At first it looks shaky for SM, who is pale and sweating, perhaps still quite hungover, who is sporting a fresh tattoo of a smashed Final Skirmish 2003 controller on his forearm. But quickly he gains his footing. When he moves he moves like none other. He is a blazing illusion, here one second, gone the next. It takes all of HM's focus to merely see where he should be attacking. It's over mercifully quick. HatchetMan stands and hugs his mentor, who hugs him back. The crowd goes: Aww.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next he's up against OctoMike, who he's struggled against in the past. OM is a name everyone knows by now. He's no amateur. He's been part of the Final Skirmish 2003 cadre since there was one to speak of. What he lacks in ingenuity and dexterity he more than makes up for with experience. Now he's up one game over SipMaster, now he's up two. The crowd, sweating and exhausted, bites their collective nails to the quick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he comes surging back. Of course he does. SipMaster has an excellent sense of dramatic timing. He steamrolls OM in the next three games, leaving all the spectators wondering how they could've been worried in the first place. SM pops off, jumps around the stage yelling bestially, before turning back around to give OctoMike the firm handshake he deserves. Then he sits back down and prepares for the true challenge which is to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here he comes: OnyxBlast struts out before them, his dark skin glistening under the harsh stage lights. The only sound for a few moments is the buzzing chorus of boos. OB is unperturbed -- he's used to this treatment by now. He sits down to play. He has a plane to catch in the morning. SipMaster will have to beat him two sets in a row to take the tournament. The odds are low, but for SM they always are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, wait, what's this! SM takes the first game! He seems to have caught OnyxBlast off-guard. HatchetMan, in the crowd, has screamed his voice raw already, and he isn't the only one. In the second game OB evens up the score, although it is by a much slimmer margin than in their Winners set. OB takes the third game as well. It looks dire for our hero. But he comes back in Game Four, executing his trademark BlisterBomb explosion for the victory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it is Game Five. Both players have been through the ringer. Their faces are coated in sweat, their eyes are glassy. They tap their feet to an invisible rhythm. First OnyxBlast loses a Life -- a wave of cheers -- then SipMaster loses one as well, which elicits nothing but silence. Then after two perfectly executed combinations, the two are both on their Final Life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Let's go to Kip in the commentary booth to cover this crucial moment: "...They're both dancing around each other. I can barely watch. Oh my lord, SipMaster dives in, a reckless attempt to grab OnyxBlast, but he misses, and OB is slow to punish. It's back to an even position. You Ess Ay, You Ess Ay! Oh no. That's not good. Oh no! SipMaster is in the clutches of OB's Stumbly. This can't be it -- no -- but it is! That's it! OnyxBlast is your Mom's Basement Brawl Four Champion!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd grumbles and shuffles. OnyxBlast stands, as does SipMaster, and the two embrace, although SipMaster looks reluctant to do so. Then the tall, slender Nigerian raises his arms and yells to no one: "I WIN!" Spectators roll their eyes. He always does this. It never gets old for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then something flies onto the stage. It's moving. It's crawling up OnyxBlast's legs. He let's go a low howl as he claws desperately at whatever it is that is slipping up inside his shirt, out through the neck-hole. Finally he grabs it by the scruff of the neck and holds it up for all to see: it's a raccoon chattering mischievously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who threw this at me?" he screams at the onlookers. "Who the hell threw this at me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one comes forward. The mass dissipates. Everyone goes home disappointed. The raccoon pisses on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>#</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: OnyxBlast, congratulations on your victory! And also, on behalf of the entire Final Skirmish 2003 community, we apologize profusely for the fact that someone threw a raccoon at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>OB: Ah, thank you. At first I was angry about the raccoon. Now I am not. I am used to this kind of thing by now. But yes, it does feel good to win. I always relish the opportunity to play someone as talented as SipMaster in a competitive setting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: What would you say to those people who booed as you walked on stage?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>OB: [Ponders] I would tell them I understand why they disdain me. I wasn't always the best in the world. It took a lot of time, a lot of dedication, to get where I am today. I understand I don't have the most flashy style of play. But that's me, you know. I am a safe man. When it wasn't clear that I would be able to make Final Skirmish 2003 my profession, I got a degree in Computer Science. That is just who I am. Someone like SipMaster will put it all on the line, go all in, and I understand that is more entertaining from a narrative standpoint. That is why I play a character such as Stumbly, who rewards players for playing with caution. I understand the people who disdain me, although it does sometimes hurt me, to see that they do not value what I've given to this community.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: You tweeted recently something about a death in your family?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>OB: Yes, recently my father passed away. I lived with him all throughout my youth, when I still lived in Lagos. I loved him, although we did not always see eye to eye about what you could call my future. In fact, the last time I spoke with him was when I decided to move to the United States to pursue a competitive career in the realm of Final Skirmish 2003. Tomorrow I will fly back to Nigeria to attend his funeral. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q: I'm so sorry to hear that. I'll let you get back to your hotel for a good night's sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>OB: Thank you, Quentin. Thank you for all that you do for this community. And if SipMaster can hear this: I look forward to facing you again, you are a most worthy competitor. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feedback always appreciated :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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